


Memory

by kameo_chan



Series: The Ballad of Umino Iruka: Teacher [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen, Stand Alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-21
Updated: 2011-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-27 16:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kameo_chan/pseuds/kameo_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The life and times of Umino Iruka - Story #1</p><p>Iruka's oldest memory is of his mother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memory

His oldest memory is of his mother. In it, she is soft curves and quiet words and candle-lit warmth; she smells of incence and wood smoke and faint traces of blood and danger. Iruka is nestled in her lap, head canted sleepily on her chest while they wait for his father to come home from yet another protracted mission. He listens to the steady tha-thump tha-thump of her heart coming strong and clear through a haze of drowsiness. She is humming softly; an old song that tells of legends half-whispered from times long ago and people long forgotten. And Iruka knows - from habit and expectation - that she is about to tell him a story she has told so many, many times before.

"Once," she begins, her voice as gentle and even as the slow lap of a tide against shifting sand. "Once there was a country situated on an island amidst the endless waves. And in that country, there was a village that had stood since the days of the Great Sage, hidden amongst the swirling waters and eddying currents of a great and mighty river. The island country was fair, and the village peaceful and prosperous. Its people were fast friends with the men and women of the Leaf village, and they were blessed with a strength and vitality that did not diminish throughout all the long years of their lives.

Formiddable in battle and indomitable in spirit; the people of the village were kind and brave to a one. But the very power with which they governed so fairly eventually proved to be their undoing. For as with everything in this life, there were those who sought to obliterate the happiness of others and take it for themselves. The lords and ladies of the Five Great Countries grew jealous of the village's power. Jealousy turned to hatred, and hatred to fear until one day they unleashed a fury too great and terrible to withstand upon the island nation.

Shinobi came from every village save one. From the Sand and the Mist, the Cloud and the Rock, from the Rain and the Grass and the Waterfall they poured like demons in the night. And they rained down terror and destruction upon the village and bathed in the blood of its people." Here, his mother's voice grows quiet, no more than a whisper.

"The land was torn asunder; the great river boiled dry. And of the village there remained little save smouldering ruins. The people were scattered, left to aimlessly wander the wide corners of the world with nothing more to their names than the clothes on their backs and their never-ending grief. Some disappeared and never returned, others were given safe passage and shelter by their old friends from the Leaf. Not long afterwards, it is said that the island was swallowed by the very waves that had always protected it.

They say that the sea itself took back what had been lost, and that it cried countless bitter tears on behalf of the dead who couldn't. And to this day, where the island had once been, there the waves are particularly wild and the current too strong for even the greatest of sailors to escape." Iruka is teetering precariously on the edge of sleep, and in his mind he sees roiling waves of dark water heave and pull as the sea rages with vengeful fury, cold and timeless and unforgiving.

"Iruka," his mother whispers dream-sweet to him then; combing strong, callused fingers through his hair. "My darling Iruka. You are the joy that has eased our grief, our gift for bringing the last of our people to safety. Umino Iruka, of the land that rests beneath the eternal waves." She presses soft kisses to his brow before rising, hands as steady and firm as when she teaches him to tie knots or throw kunai.

"Now then, let's get you tucked in, sleepyhead," she sing-songs, pressing him close. One hand cupped beneath his bottom like the world's best seat and the other splayed comfortingly against his back, and Iruka is fast asleep before they reach the bedroom. It's his oldest memory, and in it, there is no Nine Tails or bloody goodbyes, not yet. In it, there is only his mother and the ghosts of the past. In it, Iruka is the happiest little boy in the world.


End file.
